Page 39 of An Angel's Share
She pulls me into a hug and her warm scent hits my nostrils. She smells of calm, rose and rain. Yorkshire. She always reminds me of our old home.
“Get in the car, Kitten, we need to talk.” I push her forwards and gather her brood to set off to Ireland.
18
Aoife
The factthat I am rejoicing that my fiancé has gone to Dublin tells you the state of my relationship and my engagement. The fact that I am in tears that my baby daddy has gone to England to fetch his sister, tells you the state of my mind. I’ve gone from a normal, highly-functioning, professional woman—a doctor no less, academic, insightful, rational—to a crazed, panting mess.
Any form of chocolate results in comparisons to his eyes. Golden rays of sunshine drift me off into memories of stables, crops and belts, warm scents of hay and love. Any flashes of light remind me of his mercurial moods, molten lava to my senses.
Maybe I need a change of career. I’m a poet. The Wicklow Mountains I see in the distance have finally called my soul home.
But then I spot Patrick. And my reverie grinds to a screeching halt. Oh dear, maybe not today. Poetry will have to wait. I remember I have a business to save, and his wife toentice out of semiretirement and into my schemes. I decide a day by the sea is in order, and a change of scenery of coffee shops and clothes are required.
I head towards the kitchens where I know Christy will be supervising the menus for the lunches and dinners. Yes it does seem to be a full-time job. She’s there with the chef, going over her requirements. I stand and watch the woman who organises this house. Quietly, efficiently, no fanfare, no thanks asked for. And to be honest, and much to my annoyance, none given, by anyone other than me.
So good is she, that no one actually notices that food appears magically, as if a house elf has moved in. Laundry is done for the family and—ha bloody ha— all the lazy tossers of senior management as well. Or so I found out yesterday. Of course it is Hotel fucking Patrick at its best. No one thanks her, no one is remotely bothered she spends her time making all our lives easier.
Well I notice. And whilst I am thankful to her for it, I also want her to reap some rewards, get an assistant for the house. Maybe I’ll make one of those office workers who only has time to order clothes from the internet actually work for their pay. But Christy is mine. She is a marvel, even if Patrick is too thick to notice.
“I’m stealing your wife, Patrick. We may not be back in time for the summer camp pick up. If you can’t get the kids, my mammy has offered.” I state it as a forgone conclusion, giving him no room to disagree with me. I raise my eyes at Christy and grin, nodding my head frantically at her to get a move on and into my car.
She’s obviously on board as she sprints past me, grabs her bag, and says, “I’ll drive, Rua.”
I smile and give Patrick a wave as he just shakes his head at us. At least he doesn’t make a scene, or try to stop her.
“Now then, where are we off to?” she asks as we both get into the car. “What are you up to?” Her eyebrows rise into her hairline.
“Greystones, let’s try the Marina Café, and absolutely nothing. I just needed a bit of time out from Mammy. And Liam. Although he obligingly buggered off to Dublin.” I smile sweetly at her.
She huffs, “Yeah right,” but heads my car towards the drive and out towards the coast.
We get parked up and spend a bit of time perusing the artisan shops. I’ve not had a chance to come here much since I got home, so preoccupied with the failing business and my pregnancy. There are a few new cafés and restaurants. A lot of the houses have been refurbished and along the quayside it’s a colourful display.
“This all looks lovely, and a lot nicer than I remember,” I comment, smiling up at the freshly painted mint green house in front of me.
“Yes, some developers have gotten involved and are helping do up the houses. I think Danny Greystone has something to do with it. But he only came back full-time a week or so ago. Patrick is a bit obsessed with him, and said he must have been pulling strings from afar.” She pauses to look in the window at a children’s clothes shop. “Patrick is like a stalker with the Irish contingent of Greystones. He’s horrified to have the English versions in the house, and so close. I don’t think he can quite believe we’ve ended up related to them somehow, however distantly.” She smiles at me. “I don’t think Patrick wanted Danny back on his doorstep. Might thwart his fancy plans.”
I look at her with a frown. Not sure what plans involve Danny Greystone, but she just smiles at me.
“Café is up ahead. Best coffee outside of Dublin.”
“Well that doesn’t bode well for us, if you are saying that,” I chastise her.
“In a town then,” she amends quickly, and I roll my eyes.
We push the doors open into the charming coffee shop. It’s very pink. Lots of pink flowers outside, the frontage has been painted pink, and a pink bike is parked outside with its basket full of green foliage. Inside, the pink theme continues with the uniforms, the tables, all very tasteful. A wall has been set up especially for photos to be taken, the signage above the mural showcasing a brightly painted pink, white, and green Calavera. Not sure what that has to do with the coastal town of Greystone, but it’s pretty.
“This looks lovely. Shall we get a booth?” I point to one at the back of the shop, tucked away in a quiet corner, away from the mural, crowds, and windows. I don’t want to be overheard.
The clientele seems to be a mixture of tourists, women with babies, and the lunching crowd downing prosecco like it’s water. I smile knowing Mammy and Maggie would approve, and I’m surprised and impressed it’s this busy on a midweek day.
We gossip and order and eventually Christy asks, “So why am I here, Aoife? I know that look in your eye. Every time you’ve looked at me this week, I know you have plans for me.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Everyone thinks Christy is oblivious of what’s going on, but I know different. At school, if something was going on, she would know. People told her things as she was so nice and didn’t threaten them, and she wasn’t a gossip. She kept their secrets.
“Okay, you’ve got me. You know I want to get the business back on track. And I hope you don’t think anything I’m going to say is a bad reflection on Patrick, but I’m justtrying to look for quick wins to generate income.” I set my stall out, I don’t want her to think I’m having a pop at her husband.
